Disclaimer:
These characters belong to K. Minekura, and I am just
borrowing them for fun.

Summary:
Gojyo can't figure out the reason for Hakkai's celebration.

November

He had known something was different from the
moment he woke up. The air smelled like hot cinnamon, and his alarm, which he
had forgotten to switch off the evening before, had been conveniently removed.
It was, if he were to guess by the sun's position, around nine. And Hakkai
never made breakfast at nine, and if he were to, it was never cinnamon bread.
If Gojyo ever requested it, he would cluck and remind him it was a dessert and
took too much time for a morning meal.

Counting himself lucky, Gojyo
stumbled into his boxers and jeans, only bothering with a shirt because it was
nippy out, and their heat had been tempered for the sake of lower gas bills. It
was not until he stubbed his toe on the door that he realized Hakkai didn't act
at random; that was him he was thinking of.

Shit. It was their anniversary. Of something. Hakkai celebrated little milestones all the
time, but he had always told Gojyo of it in advance, before. They had gone out
to dinner on the anniversary of the day they met, dancing to commemorate the
end of their four year journey West, and spent the
night tangled in bed in recognition of their first kiss. The anniversary of
their mating, Gojyo was almost certain, didn't come until March. What was this
then?

"Good morning Gojyo." His feet had
carried him toward the scent of food before his mind had a chance to warn him
against it. Dammit if he wasn't turning into the
monkey.

"Mornin'." He offered a smile,
glancing about the kitchen as though he expected to find some sort of clue. "Smells good."

"Still your favorite,
isn't it?"

"Oh yeah," Gojyo promised, taking his
usual seat, the worn, mismatched chair near the corner. It was the only piece
of furniture original to their first shoebox apartment. Hakkai had gradually
replaced everything else over the years.

What's the
occasion what's the occasion? Gojyo forced the wheels in his mind to turn more
quickly than they might otherwise have at such an hour. "So you uh, pulled
my alarm?"

"We were up late." Hakkai said simply,
sitting across from him with a cup of steaming tea that smelled faintly of
cloves. "I thought you might want to sleep in today. I called your boss
and told him you were a bit sick, and would be in behind schedule."

"Hey thanks." He ate faster than he might
have liked, desperate to escape before he was cued to reference whatever
symbolic day it was and slipped up. "We've got a big order at the shop—I
really should go."

"I'm sorry. He didn't mention that you--"

"No, no, it's fine. I—I'll see you later. To celebrate." Gojyo added vaguely, pressing a firm
kiss over Hakkai's mouth before snatching a final slice of cinnamon and raisin
bread from the pan and heading out the door. He turned to see his lover wave to
him from the window, a slightly baffled expression on his face despite the
smile. Quickly the kappa turned around again, watching his boots snap holes in
the frozen snow, wishing he could do the same to the clouds about his memory.
Hakkai always told him he ought to write things down. Now he had set himself up
for a fall.

Every day of the week, work dragged by, and Gojyo
griped about it.It just figures, he
mused inwardly, the one day he needed that minute hand to stall, it would fly
around the hub before the first order was out.

He strained his memory and searched for dates as he
worked, trying to eliminate possibilities and hoping to stumble across some
mnemonic clue.

He stained his hands and shirt with varnish
recalling that the day they had met was in September, rainy and cold enough to
sting.

Repairing the loose leg of a coffee table, he
numbed his thumb with the hammer recollecting that their journey ended in late
July, when the heat was scathing and heavy with humidity.

While
remembering their first kiss was February, just around the celebratory day of
some western saint, he ran a splinter up under his nail and cursed.

The memory that they had moved into their first
house together in winter came to mind and gave him hope until he remembered
that it had been January. He nicked his pinkie with a sander and swore.

Pete looked at him funny when he cut the side of
his arm on a compass saw while remembering the first night they made love. It
had been mid-may, warm enough outside that they could spend the long night
naked in the grass and not regret it in the morning.

What, then, had happened in November? He raked a
hand through his hair in frustration, wanting to comb out the tangles of his
mind. Hakkai had looked happy, teasing, like he was expecting something. Gojyo
was already anxious at the prospect of having to admit he had forgotten and
that, despite the generous span of time for consideration, he still couldn't
figure out what the significance of the day was.

It's not like
I can fake knowing.
In all honesty, he very much doubted Hakkai was fooled when he left. The man
was too sharp to deceive, even for a short time. After helplessness passed,
guilt sank in.

It was pathetic, really. If it was so important to
Hakkai, it ought to be to him too. And the worst of all, the redhead found
himself moaning silently, was that Hakkai would brush it off, call it nothing,
and nurse his wound in secret until he was ready to take it out in some passive
aggressive manner on his partner. Gojyo was not looking forward to cold
breakfasts and hearing Hakkai's bedroom banter being reduced to "I have a
headache."

Gojyo was easy going, and he didn't make it a habit
to criticize himself. But this was worth his time; he was an ass.

"You're really beating yourself up there
Gojyo." Pete smirked, flipping his mass of blonde hair back with a stained
hand.

"Huh?" He wondered if he had been
muttering aloud until his coworker pointed at the
white bandage on his arm and thumb.

"Somethin'
on your mind?"

"Yeah.Something."

Pete shrugged, turning back to a bed frame, and hummed
through the last measly twenty minutes of their day. Gojyo punched out on his
timecard and began the icy trek home. Just as his fingers were beginning to
grow numb, hope sprang to his heart and brought a flood of warmth down the
lengths of his limbs. Maybe it wasn't something major at all—perhaps Hakkai
hadn't even intended him to remember, and the small sign of celebration had
been purely for his own benefit. The first time he vacuumed their bedroom, the
first meal he made, the first time Gojyo had to climb up on the roof to fix a
shingle—

"There you are. I was worried." Hakkai
pinned him to the wall before he could get his coat off, mouth pressing like a
brand over his own. Despite the sudden influx of heat, his insides shuddered as
though he were still out in the wind. Hakkai was wearing his green robe. Only his green robe.
This was supposed to be special.

"Mmn come with me,"
he murmured, drawing the kappa towards their bedroom by his wrists, frowning at
the bandage. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Gojyo managed between kisses,
hands slipping up through his dark hair, fingering the neat little W of hair at
his nape as a warm tongue slid down his throat. He could taste cloves.

"You're shivering," Hakkai purred,
working his jacket and shirt off of his shoulders with ease, following with the
leather strip of his belt when they crossed the threshold to the bedroom. "Lie
back, and I'll remedy that." His voice was
wrapped in a whisper.

Gojyo put aside his confession for later—at least
five, maybe ten minutes later. It wouldn't be fair to stop him in the middle of
things, after all. Not when he was using that Voice.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, well-muffled
beneath the suffocating pleasure of Hakkai's mouth, he felt guilty. Hakkai
would be angry, and worse, pretend not to be.

Spreading his legs, he threw his head back in a low
groan and felt Hakkai's throat vibrate along his length as he climaxed, twice,
without dislodging his persistent lover. Shortly, he felt a
familiar warmth at his side, an arm draped about his waist, and an
upturned mouth pressing reverent kisses down his shoulder.

"Hey." Gojyo said eloquently.

"Good?" Hakkai was still smiling,
stroking his cheek and nipping his throat.

"You have to ask? I think I woke everyone
within a ten mile radius." Gojyo felt the vibrations of his laughter.

"If you're not too tired, I have dinner in the
oven. Roast beef and scalloped potatoes." His favorite.

"And," Hakkai added quite nonchalantly,
almost shrugging despite their position, "If you want, afterwards, you can
fuck me on the table."

Gojyo moaned as his manhood sprung to life a second
time. Hakkai was playing with him now; he knew
what talk like that did to his mate.

"Yeah?" Gojyo kissed him, briefly
considering playing it out as best he could. His lover was so hesitant to leave
the bedroom—he'd only ever seen him naked outside of it a handful of times, and
it had never been planned. Or on the table.

"Yes," Hakkai promised,
fingertips warm against the muscles of his torso.

"Hey…'Kai?"Hakkai was retying his robe and
adjusting his monocle. "Hm?"

"I have a confession." Gojyo had the good
sense to scramble for his jeans before continuing. There was no point in making
himself more vulnerable than he already was under that knowing gaze.

"Look—I'm sorry. Really,"
Gojyo breathed, hands out in the universal gesture of supplication. "I
tried real hard to remember. But I can't figure it out. It's not when we
met—that was September—or when we finished traveling—July—and
I know it wasn't our first kiss because that was on that Saint—Valentine's—Day, and we bought the house
in January. And, well, you know I didn't forget the first time we did it."
He looked up at him helplessly, hoping desperately for pathos points.

A small smile was spreading over
Hakkai's lips, and Gojyo took it as a good sign. And then suddenly he was
laughing, a slender hand covering his mouth as his shoulders shook.

"How's that?"
The kappa murmured, rising up onto one knee at the end of the bed as Hakkai
leaned over him.

"Well it's your birthday."

Hakkai paused, mouth just above his,
still broken out into a bright smile. Gojyo met dancing green eyes through the
dim light of the room. "Oh," he breathed, letting Hakkai bestow his
kiss upon him like a gift.

They made love again, twice. Dinner
got cold, but it still tasted perfect. Hakkai was smiling sweetly at him over
the wine glass, hair mussed every which way, the top
of his robe hanging open.

Hakkai's face became appropriately somber; he nodded. "I understand. It was not a happy
occasion for you, then. But I would like to make it so now, and in the future."

Gojyo smiled, "Then I'd say you've
done a pretty fucking good job."

"I appreciate the pun."

"The what?"
Gojyo grinned, pushing his chair back and moving to draw Hakkai into his
embrace. After a kiss that left them both a little shaken, Gojyo threw a
meaningful glance at living room, notably the sofa.

Gojyo blanched, "It's just that
you never…you don't usually…you're a little more…reserved," he said
carefully, walking the narrow line between truth and offense.

"Oh." Hakkai seemed
unfazed. "Yes."

"So what brought that about?
And how can I get it again?" Already he was loosing the silk knot at the
front of his lover's robe, nipping the side of his throat.

"I kept thinking about how much
you remembered—the first time we met, when we kissed…I didn't think you kept
track."

"I don't so well," he
admitted, smoothing dark hair back with a rough palm. "But I remember
important moments, like they just happened. It's like some weird snapshot in my
brain—I can see everything."

"You've only blocked out what
you don't need," Hakkai reasoned with a little nod, guiding Gojyo to the
couch. "Well. I can't have you going through all that confusion again over
your birthday. I suppose I had better make sure this snapshot doesn't fade."

"How're you gonna
do that?"

Hakkai laid his monocle on the end
table with a tiny clink. "By giving you something to
remember."